Dragon Tears
by Random Slytherin 1
Summary: A little look into the head of a certain blonde Slytherin... Rated for a few not-too-bad words. (Mildly slashy)


Yay. The first Potter fic I've typed up. Though not my first Potter fic…And certainly not my first fic ever. I've got close to 200 other fics lying around…mostly Weiß Kreuz. ^^;; ::waves a little Nagi banner:: If you want any of those, email my privately, and I'll be more than happy to send you some. ^^ 

Eh…this is just my little take on Draco's thoughts…that kid's got some serious issues, most stemming from his parental units. ^^; Yeah…gotta love the messed-up evil kids. ^^

Disclaimer: As much as I wish he did, Draco doesn't belong to me. Everyone belongs to the wonderful goddess who created them. Not me…::sniff:: Mrs. Rowling? Can I buy a Draco? Please? And the twins, too?? T-T

Dragon Tears

My name is Draco Malfoy. But I sometimes wish it weren't.

Just the lovely blonde 15-year-old trophy son of Lucius Malfoy -renowned Death Eater and all-around ass.

In public he praises me, especially to the Death Eaters, 'My Draco's such a fine boy, just like his dad. A Fifth Year at Hogwarts now, Slytherin, of course. He even made Seeker his Second year. He'll be a fine man; as soon as he's down with school he'll get the Dark Mark. Wont you be proud then, son?' And all I can do is plaster on my best fake smile and mutter the proper 'yes, Father.'

But alone…he never forgets to tell me what a terrible son I am. 'Why the hell isn't Potter dead yet? He's not any better then you; he's practically a Mudblood! So why does he get better marks than you do? You should be winning both the House and the Quidditch Cups every year, not him. Don't think that once you properly serve our Dark Lord that you wont still have to bow to me, boy. I own you.' These tirades are usually accompanied by him beating me around.

It doesn't hurt anymore. Physically it does, but otherwise, I'm numb. I don't cry; a Malfoy never cries. Sometimes, alone at night behind the bed curtains in my room in the Slytherin dungeons tiny drops of water fall from my eyes…

But I don't cry.

I don't want to be a Death Eater. I may be corrupt, and I know I'm not the nicest person on the planet…but I'm not evil. I'll have to go along with taking the mark, I suppose; I can't fight my father, no matter how much I disagree with almost everything he stands for. Everything I'm supposed to stand for, but don't.

I could really care less about the difference between Purebloods and Mudbloods; we're all Wizards, all the same. Though there were very few Mudbloods that decided to go the way of the Dark Arts. But I have to play my part, live up to my name.

I looked up the components of my name once. 'Draco' is Latin for 'dragon', which I'm quite fine with, even if the Weasel boy finds it amusing. I'm sure Father chose it with well meaning; a strong name for a strong boy. But it's my surname that disturbs me a bit. 'Mal' being the prefix meaning 'bad', and 'foi' being French for 'faith'… Bad faith. Quite assuring. So I'm the Dragon of Bad Faith. Or, perhaps…an unfaithful dragon.

The son of a Death Eater who doesn't wish to follow Voldemort. I have no intention of joining the Death Eaters, but unless they somehow are stopped before the end of Seventh Year, I'll have no choice. I'll never actually tell him, but Potter has my wishes for good luck.

Ah, yes, Harry Potter. The eternal thorn in my heart. Not my side, my heart, the miserable git. Imagine what Father would think if he found out his only son and heir had a bit of a thing for his worst enemy-and a boy, at that. Bloody hell, I'd rather live with the whole Weasel family for a month than have him learn that. 

The annoying little twit with the lightning bolt scar…who would have imagined? After all our years of fighting…that I might fall for him. Not that I planned it this way; I never wanted to fall for Potter!

It was last year, I guess, during the TriWiz Tournament. And after. When everyone thought he had drowned during the Second Task…something told me that I wouldn't really like it if he were to die. And after the Third Task…it was like something twisting and coiling inside me, telling me how miserable my life would be without a certain green-eyed boy. 

Well, I'd always known I wasn't really interested in girls…but guys? Sure, I'll flirt with Pansy and the other Slytherin girls…but I don't mean a bit of it. Especially with Pansy, the twit. That eternity I had to spend with her at the Yule Ball was absolute torture. And her dress was so…pink. I detest pink. Most likely I'll marry some rich little twit of a witch, probably from Slytherin, thus increasing the Malfoy fortune, then have a brat of my own. Because, of course, 'we cant have the Malfoy line die out, now can we?' Stupid old man. I should marry a Mudblood just to spite him. Or a Muggle. 

Or worse, get real cozy with another guy, eliminating any chance at more Malfoys. I wonder if Potter would be up to royally pissing off my father? Not that he would ever agree to my method of doing so. He's probably as straight as his bloody wand. Too bad, really; he's grown up to be quite lovely. All that unruly black hair and those piercing green eyes…it's what attracted me to him in the first place. Attracted me, mind you, not made me fall for him.

When I first saw him in the robes shop in Daigon Alley, I was smitten. We were both 11, just a month away from our first year at Hogwarts. He was so small, swimming in clothes five sizes too big for him, with glowing green eyes hiding behind broken glasses. But I didn't see his scar. I wasn't to learn that the pretty boy I'd been so rude to was actually Harry Potter until a month later, on the Hogwarts Express.

In the shop I wanted him as a friend. On the train I wanted him as an ally. Now…now I just want him. It's sad, really. I just...want to hold him and to own him. I don't even want to sleep with him…well, maybe I do…but I'd rather just have him.

It hurts me inside to know that I'll have him, never receive anything but contempt from him. What was the old line in those Muggle plays? 'My only love sprung from my only hate'? That sounds about right. We hate each other…yet I can't help but to have feelings for the miserable git. I wish I didn't; everything would be so much easier if I hated him.

It tears me up inside to always be so terrible to him. But that's the way I deal with my emotions. I'm a man. I'm a Malfoy.

Malfoys don't cry.

I wish I could cry.

Well then. A Potter fic. Yes. I'm proud. My little take on Draco…gods, I love that boy. What did we all think? Shall I type up a few more? I've got plenty…and now I have time…^__^


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